


Strange Appetites

by skyereads



Series: Weird Things Din Does, a comprehensive list by one Carasynthia Dune of Alderaan [4]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cara hands over the reins, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship-ish, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Kissing, Kissing Lessons, Nicknames, Pining, Smut, Some Plot, Three plus one trope, only they've never had The Talk (tm), slightlydom!Din
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:29:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26993695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyereads/pseuds/skyereads
Summary: The three times Din wants to kiss Cara, and the first time he finally does.
Relationships: Cara Dune/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Din Djarin/Cara Dune
Series: Weird Things Din Does, a comprehensive list by one Carasynthia Dune of Alderaan [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1735627
Comments: 21
Kudos: 106





	Strange Appetites

**Author's Note:**

> I know. I know. I have other works that I NEED to finish. But this...I'm very excited to share this. Half of it was written months ago, and I finally got it all strung together. The Jedi Temple plot is loosely based off an episode from Star Wars Rebels, the animated series.
> 
> Warnings: domestic fluff, family feels, followed by an angsty shoddy plot line involving Jedis and Temples with dark themes alluded to, hurt and comfort, and ending with very explicit sexual content, dirty talk/language, including intense oral sex (f receiving), and dom/sub vibes. You've been warned. Followed by more fluff and cuddling. Ya know the drill at this point.

“Cara!”

Din’s booming voice fell down the ladder and into the cargo hold, reverberating off the walls.

She had upended one of the inner panel walls, frustrated with the tangle of wires and switches that needed tapping and tweaking, when she heard his shout. Startled out of her workflow she opened her mouth in a yelp and subsequently dropped the pocket flashlight she’d been holding between her teeth. This also caused her to bang the back of her head on the interior ceiling wall.

“Ca-RA!”

Shuffling on her knees backwards out of the crawl space and rubbing her sore head, Cara huffed out a series of curses she picked up from a couple free-wheeling, double-dealing bounty hunters she met on Nevarro while still under the employment of Greef Karga a while back.

“What?” She griped, knowing he couldn’t possibly hear her from where she was.

“Is he down there?” Din’s voice was right at the top of the ladder.

There was a giggle and pitter patter of tiny feet running across the durasteel floor of the hold.

“Yeah,” she shouted up to him. “What’s the issue?”

“Don’t come up here,” he added, panicked.

“Huh?”

“Don’t come up!” Din was acting weird.

Her instincts kicked into high gear. “What’s wrong?”

“He took off with it – I tried to… He’s so fast!”

Cara heard more giggling and the shuffling of feet, accompanied by the scrap of beskar on steel. A small, shiny _thing_ flashed out of the corner of the eye as it ran to hide behind one of the crates attached to the wall. Now she had an inkling of what was up.

Small and adorable though he may be, the Child had his moments of menace.

Happy for the distraction from her anger with the electrical wiring, she went along with it.

“All right, I got this,” she called up to Din, wiping her greasy hands on her pants. “Now where did that lil’ critter go?”

She heard a childish giggle and, dropping into stealth mod, Cara slowly crept towards it. Rounding the corner, she cried: “Gotcha!”

What she saw made her burst into laughter.

Din’s helmet scurried across the floors of the Crest, ducking, and weaving around her feet. Magically it had sprouted green toes and was snickering uncontrollably. The beskar clanged into the wall and fell over. Cara caught it, still laughing, before it rolled too far away.

“Hey little man, you’re gonna give your dad a heart attack,” she crooned softly to the kid, pulling the helmet off his tiny green body. He gave an ear-piercing shriek at being caught but looked quite smug with himself. She poked and tickled his belly, ears flapping in her face. “Clever boy.”

“I only took it off for one second!” Din’s disembodied voice floated down to them, still panicky. “Did you find him?”

“Yeah, he’s here.”

“Well, you’ll have to bring it up…”

She held the metal armament aloft. It was kinda strange, seeing it disconnected from his body. Creepy, almost. The _wrongness_ of it made her almost queasy.

Suddenly, the few steps up to the top seemed awfully far away.

“What if we’d been parked in a space port?” Din’s boots clunked as he paced around the cockpit. “What if he’d gone down the ramp with it?”

“Right, _chill_ up there, drama queen,” Cara retorted, putting some intensity behind the words, still rocking the kid in her arms.

Above, Din went quiet, guiltily so. Cara winced a little, knowing that while Din’s intentions were honorable, when executed they often veered into overbearing. Especially lately.

They were currently heading to Lothal. They’d picked up a lead through a source given to them by the Taj Sisters that there was a Jedi Temple on the planet. Din deliberated taking them there – which Cara thought was apt. There were still Imperial hunters after them, and together they’d had a few scrapes since staving off Gideon on Nevarro.

Lothal had a heavy Imperial occupation during the war, and while the Rebellion had cleared out most Imps, liberating the planet and the Capital City, hiding from sympathizers might be hard. Given its proximity to hyperspace lanes that went into the Inner and Core Worlds, Lothal was not ideal for laying low.

Needless to say, despite the adjustments to her chain code, Cara was nervous as well. Which meant Din’s neuroses were off-the-charts.

“Okay,” she announced, finally managing to find a way to comfortably hold the Child, the precious helmet, and grip the first rung of the ladder. “I’m coming up.”

It was slow moving. The lil monster was talking nonstop the whole time, explaining and gesticulating, making elaborate raspberries with his tongue. Finally, at the top, she oriented herself, facing outwards; kid cradled in her elbow snuggly, and helmet held aloft in her left hand, she shut her eyes and walked backwards into the cockpit.

The doors swooshed open.

“Not looking,” she said quickly, holding the helmet up by its lip. It was lighter than she would have thought. Some kind of padding ran along the interior. With the tips of her finger gripping it she tried not to think about how Din’s face was constantly pressed there.

She stepped backwards into the silent cockpit. A drop of worry plopped in her stomach.

“You there?” she called out.

He just sighed. The Child echoed him, mimicking the tenor of Din’s sigh perfectly and it made Cara, uncomfortable already, laugh out loud.

“Sorry,” she snorted, cutting her laugh short. “It’s not funny. I just—”

But the kid was chuckling too, and so was Din. She’d heard him laugh only a few times before, and even so through the distortion of the modulator. Hearing it, fully, uncovered, in open air— She swallowed roughly, took another tentative step backwards.

“Enough trouble for one day, huh?” Din, calmer now that the helmet was not lost, nor were there any apparent boo-boos, scolded the Child.

“Ah,” he answered back.

The Child’s large ear tickled her cheek as he turned his head, straining to look over her shoulder at Din behind her. She knew they often took their meals together and that he was used to seeing his adoptive father without the helmet, but it still made Cara discomfited to be in this space while he was unhelmed, like she was intruding.

“Sorry I panicked…and yelled at you,” Din continued, throwing out another sigh.

“S’okay,” she said, shrugging, and the back of her boot struck something solid.

It was all at the exact same time, the Child finally wiggled free and plopped to the ground, landing on his feet. It took her so by surprise, she yelped for the second time that morning, dropping the helmet in the process, and in her panic over losing grip on both the Child and Din’s helmet, her eyes flew open and she lost her footing.

The last thing she saw before warm hands enveloped the top half of her head was the sight of that troublemaker fleeing out the doors of the cockpit, laughing his adorable little head off, probably back down to the hold or to find one of his toys.

Next thing Cara knew, she was sprawled, not entirely at ease, in the Mandalorian’s lap in his pilot’s chair; the dull sounds of the beskar helmet as it rolled across the floor and hit the leg of one of the nearby chairs.

She flexed her hands, uselessly empty, cringing and cursing her clumsiness.

His hand tightened over her eyes.

“Ughhh,” she groaned, “that kid I swear.”

“We’ve been through worse,” he said warmly, and it was right in her ear too. Close enough, his words tickled the loose strands of hair.

“I know,” she cringed, knowing there was nothing worse than coming up with punishments fit for the most adorable creature in the galaxy. “And he is a baby.”

Din chuckled.

“Sorry I dropped it,” she said lamely. “I think it’s somewhere by the other chair.”

“I see it. Stop fidgeting.”

She hadn’t even realized she was. Mostly because Din Djarin had bony knees under all his layers; beskar armor, weaponry, and such wasn’t the most _comfortable_ thing to be slouched over. She tried to relax – difficultly and ungainly, across his lap, straddling his legs while he held a firm hand over her eyes, palm digging into the bridge of her nose.

“I was just tryna—” Her elbow hit his ribcage while her boots stomped on his toes.

“St—oof!” He grunted and wheezed.

“Lemme just, adjust to—” She could only twist so much, so his hand didn’t slip.

“Ow! That’s my foot! You’re—

“Sorry, there. There. That’s better.”

It really wasn’t. Now her entire torso was leaning against him, back flush to his chest.

“Cara.” The normal sternness in his voice was muffled by her hair.

“I’ll try to reach it with my boot,” she started stretching her left leg in the general direction of where she had heard the helmet fall.

There was a firm tug around her middle area. He had snaked his other arm around her and with a forceful and cross “Stop!” stilled her.

They sat with bated breath, too loud in the small area.

“Just. Wait,” he added, strained.

The seconds passed. Neither moved. Din must be taking visual stock of their situation, and the outlook can’t be good because he drew in a shaky breath.

“Okay, when I say stand—” He sniffed. “You—” Cara felt his body go rigid underneath her. He drew in another breath, inhaling sharply through his nose. “Is that—?”

The drop soldier couldn’t help but squirm as his hand squeezed tighter around her eyes.

“Is that you?”

“Is what me?”

“ _That_.” She felt his face burrow into her hair, sniffing. He did this a few more times, a stray pass of his nose gliding near her neck.

“Are you…” Cara blanched, going hot and cold all at once, “ _smelling_ me?”

It had been a little stuffy in that vent, and she had blown more than a few tantrums particularly since the wiring was being _fussy_. With little ventilation in those tight places she probably had a decent sweat going by the time she had been crawled out. Really, she didn’t smell _that_ bad – not like one of her post-workout sweats, which were ripe. The soap she was using said it was unscented and it’s not like they haven’t had their rounds and he’d never mentioned it before. They often shared a bunk for kriff—

Then, it hit her. The helmet. It filters out most scents.

When Din spoke, his beard scraped the nape of her neck. “I’ve never—it’s… nice.”

He pressed the bridge of his nose right at the back of her neck, mouth open and inhaled deeply. It was a very strange sensation. Erotic. Cara’s thighs flinched, wanting to press together, just to take the edge off the small ache forming deep inside her.

“You smell so good,” he purred. “So sweet.”

The palm across the top of her face felt clammy, palpably warm with sweat.

“I—” Cara cursed her sudden weakness. “I guess.”

The hand around her middle spread, coming to rest just under the bulge of her breast through her armored top, right on the band of her bra.

Din’s nose made its own journey, discovering every nook and cranny of her neck. “Cara— you—”

Something poked near the region of her butt. She had a strange inkling it was _not_ his blaster.

All the moisture left Cara’s mouth. “D-Di—”

A wet streak – his tongue – laved directly under her right ear. He palmed the swell of her breasts. “How have I never _smelled_ you before?”

The heat in Cara’s groin flared, but they were toeing a dangerous line.

“Din. Helmet.”

It seemed to break him out of his trance. He had to clear his throat a handful of times. The fingers over her face flexed briefly.

“Close your eyes,” Din said, gripping one bicep.

“Hm?”

“Do you trust me?”

“New kink, tinhead?” Her small laugh bubbled up, vibrated right through Din. Tried to break the tension.

He sighed, going soft. “Just close ‘em.”

Then, miraculously, his hand lifted off her face. She did as he said, immediately shutting her eyes – attentive as any good solider, awaiting instruction. Upon receiving none, she tilted her head. “Now what?”

Firm hands on her arms guided her to stand and, smoothly, she rose. No bumps or abrasions.

“Eyes closed?”

Willingly obliging this one simple request, Cara wiggled her shoulders, straightened her spine, and pinched her eyes tighter shut.

Din moved. Cara felt the air surge around her, heard the flapping of his cape, the clinking of metal on metal, a scrape of his boots. Incidentally, she did not hear the sound of him returning the helmet to his head.

The cockpit went silent again.

“Can I open my eyes now?” She scrunched her face. “Unless I’m getting a present. Ooh! Is the present in your pants?”

She’s about to laugh at her own wiliness but there’s a prickle at the base of her neck. A distinct instinct tells her Din is rooted very closely to her, just outside the range of touch. If she thought to move her nose forward even an inch, they might be kissing.

“Din?” Her brows furrowed, mind playing through multiple scenarios. Is he really just _standing_ there?

“I’m here,” he said, but it’s too much like honey to be his helmet-voice.

What is he just _staring_ at her now?

She thinks something is about to happen. The moment is so fraught, so saturated. Cara’s fingers itch at her sides. She’s not good in silences.

Whatever the moment was, it’s interrupted by a sudden chirping from the Crest’s navi-computer.

Din’s sighing, a touch exasperated, and then a clicking sound, before he said in a clipped tone: “You can open them now.”

She did, to find Din bending over his console. Helmet and all. With a timid shake, the Crest dropped out of hyperspace, guided by Din’s piloting. Floating out the viewfinder is the blue and brown sphere of Lothal. White clouds floating over the large land masses.

Cara doesn’t know why, but as she ducked out of the cockpit, off to find the kid and get suited up, she swore Din was… _disappointed_. She’d be lying if she thought she didn’t feel the same hollowness too.

* * *

The sun on Lothal is good for her.

They’ve been parked some miles outside the main city in a grassy field for all of two days now. Din’s been disappearing into the city every so often, doing supply runs, digging into the rumor mill on the exact whereabouts of the Jedi Temple. He’s being super-secretive about something else. Cara’s woken up in the mornings to the loud sound of hammering, coming from the bunk in the hold. Each time she asked him, he just shook his head, shrugged. Helmet gave nothing away, of course.

Cara aimed at sturdy roundhouse kick at the punching bag hanging from a tree limb. Hitting squarely on the crudely drawn T-shape she marked into it with a black pen at the crown. Resembling a certain Mandalorian armament.

It’s a hot day on the planet. Sweat trickled down her face, dripping between her breasts. She removed her top layers, hoping to get a decent tan on her shoulders while doing her workout. Stripped down to her sports bra and leggings, she’s still sweating.

Cara’s next sequence of punches – double jab, left elbow, right cross, and a front kick – jostled the punching bag, sent it swinging. She ducked, dodging an imagined opponent, shuffled to her left, and repeated the sequence until her knuckles stung.

Mando took the kid for the day. A risky move for the city of Lothal – little green alien babies were few and far between. But he had taken care to shield him in the carry-on and promised to be back before sundown. She trusts him. Knows he’ll take every precaution not to be followed.

The soldier in Cara can end it there. The lover in Cara is overly protective.

She changed up her next boxing sequence for a final round: jab, cross, right hook into a jump-kick. She gets plenty of air on that last move, and satisfied with the smack of her boot on the sand-filled punching bag, she repeated it…

Lovers. Is that what they are?

She landed a little off, ankle rolling out from underneath her, and went sailing into the tall yellow grasses. The loud smack her body made upon impact with the ground disturbed a pair of butterflies hiding in the field – white wings leaping from the starchy grasses, flying across her vision. From her vantage, sprawled, winded, on the silty ground, she sees them chase each other across the blue sky.

Experimentally, she rolled her ankle, wincing slightly. Not a sprain, or a break, but a little sore. Just stupid. Stupidly distracted.

She huffed a clump of hair off her damp face. Guess workout’s over. She can already feel the slight muscle soreness and fatigue all over her body.

Lothal’s sun is bright. The air is different here too – cleaner, a hint of wildflowers on the wind. She doesn’t know how long she zones out for, beads of sweat collecting on her collar, breath evening out.

“Did you draw my helmet on your punching bag?”

Din’s shadow blotted out the sun. Cara doesn’t open her eyes.

“It’s to remind myself that I can kick your ass any day, tinhead.” The affectionate nickname rolled too easily off her tongue.

“You won’t believe what they had in the market!” Din deftly switched topics, knowing she’s right.

Cara has to squint, it’s so bright.

The Child, sitting in the sling on Din’s chest, is chewing on something vaguely bright pink and yellow. It’s sticky; there’s juice all over his impish face. He’ll need a bath at this point.

A tangy scent wafted down to Cara, lying in the grass. Her stomach grumbled upon recognizing it.

“Meiloorun,” a smile crept up her lips.

“Loads of them.”

“Gimme some.”

Too exhausted to lift her arm, Cara simply opened her mouth. Din’s knees creak as he bent, and he scoffed, but humors her. He placed the chewy bite-size piece of fruit on her tongue.

Cara closed her lips around the tip of Din’s glove, and she bit around it. The meiloorun squelched in her mouth, and the sharp citrus taste of it, sweet and savory, made her moan lightly.

There’s an odd tilt to Din’s helmet. The sun playing on the beskar.

Enjoying it, she opened her mouth in a wordless request for more. Din obliged, pushing the fruit between her parted lips. It’s juicy and a few drops fall out of the corner of her mouth. His hand lingered on her jaw, hovering over the damp lines of her lips. Hyper focused, it seemed on her mouth as she chewed. So much so that the kid’s flailing, wanting to be freed from his sling go unnoticed.

“Sweet, right?” His voice sounded starchy, like he needed a drink of water.

Cara hummed in agreement, licking the drop of meiloorun juice at the corner of her mouth, grazing the leather-clad fingertips with the tip of her tongue.

The kid wiggled a little more aggressively, and Din, catching on, unclipped him. Set him on the ground by Cara’s head. He greeted Cara with a swat of his sticky hands on her forehead and a loud coo.

Cara gave him a honeyed smile. “You boys find the temple?”

“Got the coordinates,” Din confirmed. “We’ll go tomorrow. If it’s still standing.”

He’s caressing her face, like she’s a Loth-cat lying in the sun. Elongated out on the grasses, lazy, maybe a little sun-drunk, the meiloorun fruit pungent on her lips, she already is.

“Can I show you something?”

Languidly, Cara stretched her arms overhead, making the Child laugh as he tried to dodge them. Her back arched, jutting her ample bosom out. Din’s eyes clocked the way the material stretched tightly around her curves, a bead of sweat falling between her cleavage.

She’s warm, and it was nothing to do with the Lothal sun on her skin. “Only if it’s something naughty,” she flirted, coyly looking at him through her long lashes.

Din’s thumb adoringly traced the outline of her lips. “Always the dirty mind, sweet girl.”

They head back inside the Crest. The Child in Cara’s arms, sticky and smiling. Climbing up the ramp after him, that’s when she noticed the large bag Din is also carrying. They paused in front of the door to the main bunk.

“You can say no,” Din uttered quickly.

Now Cara’s curiosity is piqued. Then he opened the door. It’s a bed – with a mattress, and large pillows. No more of that uncomfortable metal slat that was a sorry excuse for a bed.

“Wait,” she smirked at him, “is that a mattress? A real one?”

Din’s rubbing the back of his neck, standing all shyly to one corner. “I figured we’ve been spending enough nights together, and the kid sometimes, we might as well have more space. You can still use your old bunk – if you want it. I got new blankets in town today.”

He dumped the contents of the bag down on the newly arranged bed.

The Child’s eyes widened – as if they could anymore – and he made several happy chirps, leaning so far forward in Cara’s arms she nearly dropped him into the pile of brand-new blankets. Not that she’d blame him, they looked invitingly soft.

“Is that what you’ve been hammering at in here? A new bed?” Her mind is unable to conjure a reasonable answer for _why_ Din decided to do this, and she stood dumbstruck. “But— your helmet! I mean, we almost broke the Creed!” Mentioning the event from two days ago when the kid ran off with his helmet.

Din stood inert. “With the door shut it’ll be completely dark inside. You won’t be able to see me.” He took her hand, folding it warmly between his own. “Come sit on it. Tell me if it’s soft enough.”

Feeling a little embarrassed by her outburst, and looking between his visor, and the Child, Cara calmed down. “Okay.”

She sat on the mattress. It felt new. How had he snuck it past her onto the ship? The Child is anxious to try it out and climbed free of Cara’s grip to jump up and down on it.

She lay back down on it, staring at the ceiling overhead. Din mimicked her, brushing up against her side. They’re feet dangling off the edge, legs knocking against each other.

“Not bad,” she admitted, rolling on her back from side to side, testing the springs. “The kid certainly likes it.”

Especially the new blankets, which he had burrowed under and was busy making himself a nest under there.

Cara’s eyes lingered on Din’s form beside her. She put her hand on his arm. “Thank you,” she said, earnestly. “It’s a nice gift. No one’s ever built me a bed before.”

“We can sleep here tonight?”

“Anything else you wanna show me, baby?”

Eagerly, Din sat up on his elbows, gazing down at her. “I might have one or two ideas.”

Cara’s tongue darted out to wet her dry lips. Some of that Lothal sunshine had gotten into her bloodstream.

Then there’s a gurgled shout from somewhere nearby and Cara doubled over with a strangled _oof_ as the kid landed on her stomach, having launched himself onto her at full speed. Cara immediately tickled him and soon the hull space is flooded with his delighted giggles and shrieks, and – most importantly, Cara thought – Din’s warm laughter.

* * *

The Jedi Temple, at first sight, was a gigantic, megalithic stone structure. An absurdly huge cone-shaped mound that stood out so erectly on the otherwise largely flat Lothal landscape, it was like an offensive gesture. They knew they were in the right place because the Child was acting weird, hypnotized by the structure, making odd noises neither had heard before.

The biggest obstacle at first was the lack of an entrance. They nearly gave up, until the Child did his magic-hand-thing, and the whole structure, many times larger than the Crest, spun in the air like a top, revealing a narrow crack for a door. Strange markings littered the masonry on the interiors and a quiet hum permeated the air, as if the mountain-temple were whispering secrets to them. The Child’s eyes had been set dead ahead, unwaveringly focused, guided by an invisible hand. Their boots echoed loudly in the dim hallway until they came to a large airy room.

This second chamber had large stone columns, disappearing into blackness above. A faint mist covered the ground and the air smelled musty, dank, like the chamber had been sealed for some years.

The only occupants were a few ghastly skeletons along the walls. Those who had died, stuck in this chamber.

“This way,” Din said, charging ahead to a second doorway, leading towards an unlit passageway. “My scanners tell me it goes underground.”

“I don’t like this,” Cara whispered, eyeing the skeletal remains.

“We don’t have a choice.”

“Who are we gonna talk to? A bunch of dead guys?”

Then a massive door slid out of the paneling in the wall, and Cara watched in horror as she and Din were separated.

That was four hours ago. Cara’s been pacing up a storm.

The first hour Cara spent hopelessly shooting her blaster at the stone trying to get it to open, then punching at it until her knuckles stung and were gloves became spattered with blood. The second hour, she paced, trying to come up with an idea of an escape plan, occasionally scaling the walls or the columns. But they were all too smooth to get a good grip, and she fell back into the dusty floor, bruising her butt.

The third hour was spent in quiet meditation, followed by the occasional mad dash to the exit, also blocked, swearing rudely, while jamming her shoulder against it, cursing the whole Jedi-sorcery. Now, at hour four, and Cara was back to pacing.

Din had the Child. The Child had moved the _whole mountain_ like it was a toy. It hadn’t even tired him out. She had to trust that Din would come back for her, that they would find an exit, that she wouldn’t be stuck in this giant stone-temple for the rest of her life, rotting like those skeletons on the other side of the room. They’d come back for her. They would.

They will.

Sitting down, back against one column _not_ occupied by a corpse, Cara went back to meditation, distracting herself.

Soon they’d be back on the Crest. Din would have dinner ready. She’d get into their liquor stores and pour herself a hefty glass (or three) and soon they’ll be laughing their asses off about how Cara got stuck in some magic cone in the ground. Her stomach grumbled with hunger.

“Not helping.” She only realized she had said it out loud when it echoed eerily off the walls.

She smacked her lips. Thirsty too.

She’d see Din again. She’d see the kid again. She’d be sleeping in the new bed tonight. She’d never yell at either of them ever again. She’d say _please_ and _thank you_ more often, and work on being a _good person_ , and not be so snarky. She’d send a long-winded hello to Greef Karga at the first chance. Importantly, she would work on communication with Din.

“Din, what are we doing?” She imagined herself saying. “This is your Creed. We can’t risk it. This won’t last forever. Relationships never last forever—”

Cara knew a thing or two about that.

“What if one day I accidentally see your face, and then somewhere down the line we break up? What then! Don’t sacrifice everything you’ve got – gamble your livelihood just for me. For this—for this lover’s fling!

“And Din might hang his head. He might say, you’re right Cara. You’re a brilliant woman. Strong. Sexy. Independent— what’s that?”

She spun to the nearest skeleton, pointing at it. “You’re absolutely right! I do have the best dirty jokes,” she exclaimed to the empty chamber with a snap of her fingers.

Great, she rolled her eyes; now she’s talking to the locals. She continued her monologue.

“Din would say,” here she dropped her voice to mimic his deep modulated rasp. “You’ve got the best dirty jokes. You’re great in bed. You can kick my ass any day—”

There’s a rumble that punctures the air.

“Din!” Cara shouted desperately, heading for the door where she had last seen him disappear through. “That you?”

Only more rumbling. Overhead, dust fell from a forgotten ceiling, then it all went quiet. And to no one’s surprise, she was still stuck.

“He’ll find you, Cara,” she told herself, steeling her expression. “He hasn’t forgotten about you.”

She turned back to her audience of skeletons. “Okay, where was I?”

There’s another rumbling. It was a bigger one, like an earthquake. It’s so intense that Cara’s grabbing onto the nearest stone column for support because the whole mountain is trembling. With a loud whoosh, the two doors – her only hope – opened.

She couldn’t believe it. She was free! The doors were open! Heading towards the exit, Cara threw a glance over her shoulder at the back of the chamber and nearly screamed aloud. Slumped in a heap on the ground at the threshold of the second door – it was Din!

She called his name. He didn’t move. In fact, he didn’t appear to be breathing.

“No! Din! No.” Forgetting her exit, Cara ran back to Din’s body.

The temple continued to shudder violently. The very foundation threatening to fall. Picking him up by looping her elbows under his underarms, she dragged him out of the doorway and toward the exit. She didn’t have time to check for injuries, just focused on moving him to safety.

She caught a flash of green on his front. The kid! The was there! In his sling. His eyes were closed. He looked asleep.

Or dead, came a dark thought.

The mountain made a horrific sound. Ahead of her, was their exit. There was still daylight. Cara saw wisps of clouds, the yellow grasses.

“C’mon, tinhead!” She snapped at him, still dragging his heavy beskar-clad body along the temple floors. He was heavier than usual because of his jetpack. Why he had thought to bring it?

“Please wake up!”

The daylight started fading.

“No, no!” Cara shouted. The doors, they were closing. Very slowly, the stone began to slide down, once again blocking their only exit from the temple. Knowing if she ran, they wouldn’t make it, she had to think quickly.

The jetpack!

Arranging his limp body, she clung tightly to him while she keyed in the same buttons Din usually typed to ignite it, then held her breath. She heard the engine sputter and miraculously they rocketed off, heading in the direction of the exit. Maneuvering her and Din’s weight to pilot them out of the exit, they narrowly escaped, just before the heavy doors shut tightly behind them.

The jetpack made a series of guttural coughs. With one final sputter, it fizzled out and covering her body over the Child’s, they flew into the grass and mud with a loud _thwap_.

The wind got knocked right out of Cara, with the combined weight of the Din and his armor, as she rolled them to a stop in the soft prairie. Sobbing in disbelief and relieved at being out in open air again, Cara sat up, wiping the hay from her hair.

The large conical mountain-temple spun. When the rumbling halted and all was quiet, the temple was sealed shut.

Cara fell over the bodies of her companions. First checking on the kid, his little green face looked ashen, his eyes determinedly shut – alive, but in a deep slumber. He was clutching something in his right hand, three fingers holding tightly. Cara couldn’t even wiggle a finger loose to get a look.

Din had a pulse. Thrilled with relief, tears burst from her eyes. She kept her fingers on his neck as if for reassurance, the faint de-dum-de-dum-de-dum a lifeline to her sanity. Immensely glad Din had decided to wear the jetpack after all.

There were no other apparent injuries on either. No bloodstains on the armor. No torn clothing. Not even a bruise on the little one from the rough landing. She laid Din on his side to accommodate the heavy jetpack.

The Razor Crest was parked where they left it some yards away and the sky was fading to a soft yellow and orange as the sun set. She’d have to drag them to the ship, assuming she couldn’t wake Din in the next few minutes before darkness. He wasn’t responding to any of her attempts to do so.

Cara was a soldier. A veteran of wars. She’d seen death in many forms. Lost comrades daily. She lost her whole damn planet. Yet, this fearsome woman sat and sobbed in the mud for a few precious moments, softly shaking her lover’s shoulders, calling out his name, petting and kissing the kid’s wrinkled little forehead.

“Wake up,” she crooned, cradling Din’s helm, placing her muddy face upon his forehelm. “Please wake up.”

Her tears fell, unheard, upon the beskar.

She lay there until the sky became a dark blue. The first twinkle of a star appeared overhead. Only the soft sighs of the Child and Din’s wheezy breathing through the modulator for company. Sitting up, she cast one last look at the mountain that had been their temporary cage. It was indifferently staring back.

She mustered her energy to drag Din and the Child to the Crest.

That was when a soft sound like a wet cough met her ears. Perking up, she looked down at the two of them. It came again. Yes! A sign.

Through the modulator, Din’s breathing changed, and coughing a third time, his body trembled. He heaved a low groan.

“Din! Thank Maker – Din! I’m here.” Cara scrambled to his side.

Slowly, the silver helmet turned, and the black visor pinned on her. Then, with a lurch, his whole body skidded backwards, away from her.

“Stay away!” Din shouted. “I know you’re not real, shade.”

Cara’s face fell. “Wh— huh?”

“Get me out of this cave! Get me—” He seemed to realize the Child was snoozing on his chest. “What! Hey, you’re okay. Wake up, kid. Ad’ika! Wake up!”

He shook the tiny bundle. The Child did not move, only continued snoring. He rose to his knees, Cara tried to help him, but he shook her off.

“No. I know you’re a vision. This isn’t _real_.” He stumbled, trying to stand, avoiding her help. “I have to find Cara – the _real_ Cara, and get back—to, get back to— the ship—the—

“No, it is me,” she pleaded. “We’re out. We made it out. Look, we’re not in the Temple anymore.”

“I don’t believe you— I—” he hissed at her, like she was poisonous.

“ _Din_ ,” Cara tried to grab his hands.

A few ragged breaths fell from Din, his shoulders moving erratically up and down with each inhale and exhale, his helmet searching, taking in the open field, the sky above, the unmoving mountain behind them, then her.

“Cara?” He sounded so lost.

She blinked back more tears. “It’s me, tinhead,” she said softly. “It’s me.”

He came to his senses, his body going rigid, then, tenderly: “ _really_?”

She barely made a single nod, before he was barreling forward, cradling her face, pressing her to his helmet. She adjusted only so they wouldn’t squish the sleeping child on Din’s chest, and Cara crumpled in his arms, clutched him back just as tightly.

“Cara—” Din wept. “Is it really—I had such awful… it was like a waking nightmare. You were there – but it wasn’t you. Couldn’t be, not my Cara —”

“We’re okay. It’s okay, I got you.”

“…my sweet girl— how— why are you all muddy?” He stroked her hair, checked her for injuries. “How did we get out?”

Cara choked on a laugh. “Let’s just say, I’m glad I watched all those Rising Phoenix trainings you did.”

His hands never left her, thumbing the tears off her cheeks, wrapping his arms around her, pressing their foreheads together in an extended kov’nynir, murmuring his prayers and thanks to any deity he could think of in his addled state. Found her torn gloves, the bloodied knuckles, embraced them sweetly to his chest.

“What happened here?”

“I tried to punch my way to you,” Cara sighed, feeling stupid.

If she’d seen his face, he might be crying. He thumbed her cheek, along the line of her tattoo, nodding speechlessly, a hoarse whimper falling from his hidden lips.

“Let’s head home, yeah?” Cara said, as the last of the light faded.

With one arm around each other, the other intertwined on the kid’s belly, they limped like that, dazed but immeasurably happy, back to the ship.

* * *

Lying in the main bunk, on their new mattress, the Child sandwiched between them, she heard, and felt, Din sit up to remove his helmet in the safety of the darkness.

His hand found her forearm, draped over the Child’s belly, and he folded himself back into a comfortable position, tangling his legs with hers. It was the placement of his bare forehead on her own brow that made her freeze.

“All that and we still know nothing,” Din’s reedy exhale hit Cara squarely in the face. She shivered at the intimacy of it.

“We’ll get answers,” she reassured him.

“That Temple…” his voice faded in the darkness. Cara felt the heat of his palm gliding up her arm, as if verifying to himself she was real.

“I don’t understand, the kid just… appeared? Back in his sling?” Din asked.

“Yeah, I found you together. I couldn’t wake him.” She pressed her lips mutely to the fuzzy ear closest to her, it twitched in his sleep.

They had tried to pry the Child’s hand open. A glimpse of a ghostly green light emanated from the kid’s hand, before closing tighter. It looked like some kind of crystal. Neither had an answer.

“What _did_ you see?” She prompted quietly, not wanting to rush him.

The trauma of their separation and the subsequent events had made Din quiet all evening. He’d been reticent to leave her side for even a second.

“Showed me all my worst fears,” he said with a heavy sigh. He rubbed his face; she heard the faint rasp of nails on an unshaven jaw. “I tried shooting my way out. Then the kid, started floating away, like he was being taken by this…ghost. And I ran after it, deeper underground. Then these…things appeared. I saw the kid, dead. You, dead. All our friends. I thought it was real, but they changed.

“I saw my parents – I was reliving the day I lost them. After that, the shades became more complex. I would find my covert was all killed, or my armor was stolen. I—” he gulped in the darkness.

“It’s okay,” she moved his shirt aside enough so the gentle rising and falling of his ribcage was under her hand. “It’s all over now.”

Din was internally wrestling. Cara could practically hear the gears churning over in his head.

“I saw you,” he said slowly, full of remorse. “You were with someone else.”

Cara gasped, “never.”

“You left me – left us,” Din’s tone of voice splintered.

Cara remained very still, guiltily thinking of the insecurities she had voiced aloud in that Temple.

“You told me you wanted a different life. A different person—” He sharply cut himself off. “I’m sorry,” he said, sniffling audibly. He took hold of her neck, played with the ends of her hair.

“No, _I’m_ sorry,” Cara urged, pressing tighter to him, rubbing her hand down his back to idly massage him. “It’s okay, I was scared too.”

He cleared his throat, continuing. “I don’t know what happened after that. Next thing I know I’m waking up. The kid’s there, and, and you’re there, saying we escaped, and I didn’t…I thought it was another trick.”

“You’re here now,” her breath stirred the Child’s ear and it twitched again. “I’m _real_. This is real, promise.”

Din drew in a shaky breath, and she knew he was using the cover of darkness to cry. “I know,” he said after a poorly covered sob. “I _know_.”

Without the helmet, he sounded so vulnerable. Just a man after all. They held each other tighter.

Her hands itched to explore his features as much as she can without eyesight, and he seemed to sense her desire to do so, gently prodding her with a nose on her cheek in implicit permission. Gliding her hand up his neck, she’s surprised to find his hair is downy, feathery. Longer than she would have though, it’s curly and thick. He hummed, content, purring like a cat, as she ran her fingers through it, amazed.

Cara’s throat croaked with dryness. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” he sighed.

Cara explored in the dark. He had a hawk-like nose, round cheeks, wet from his tears. Something hairy over his lips is a moustache, curving downwards towards his chin, which is indeed scruffy. The pads of her fingers drummed over his plush lips, noting the lower one is slightly fuller.

“You know,” he rasped, winded from all the caressing. “I kept thinking, if I was gonna die in that Temple, I would do so without a kiss from my sweet girl.”

Cara chuckled, bristling at the nickname. “I’m not sweet.”

His breath puffed pleasingly across her face. “No?”

She’s never been demure a day in her life, not unironically at least. For suddenly – in his arms, a prickle of arousal settling in her groin – she is. She shook her head all innocently, forgetting they can’t see each other.

“Nuh-uh,” she added, scrunching her nose. “Not that sweet.”

“I’ve never tried this whole kissing business.”

A spike of possessiveness speared through her center, searing and hot. “Well, I could show you,” she proposed. “There’s lots of different types.”

The man actually whined – a soft, keening sound, that’s as desperate as it was achingly arousing.

“You’ve already shown me this one,” she murmured, and moved so they can gently tap their foreheads together in a kov’nynir.

“But have you tried this one?” She brushed their noses together and Cara moved her head rapidly back and forth in a wildly inaccurate, and overly dramatic portrayal of an eskimo kiss until Din’s chuckling, chest rumbling, at her antics, and they disturbed the sleeping Child between them.

They both paused. A tad guiltily.

“Is he—?” they asked simultaneously.

But no – the Child snored, and fusses, before rolling onto his side, a rogue ear swatting Cara’s neck.

“Hold on,” Din muttered.

Strong arms snaked around her waist, settle on her lower back, then she’s being lifted and placed onto Din’s body and rolled over the seeming endless bed to the other side. Here, they won’t disturb the kid anymore.

“Now, where were we?” Din hummed, licking his lips, and pulling her flush against him. Her back pressed into the wall, and she wrapped her outer leg around his hip. The heat of the bunk rose with their shared body heat.

“Did I ever show you butterfly kisses?” Cara blinked her lashes quickly along his cheek, light enough to be ticklish.

“Oh, I like those,” he said agreeably with a stifled laugh.

“I think that covers all of them.”

Din’s hand came down in a teasing smack – not sharply, but enough to make a point. Right on the outer edge of her thigh, near her ass. She jolted at the contact, made an aborted laugh.

They paused again, listening as to whether that woke the Child.

“I’m not forgetting any, am I?” she whispered, pitching her voice in a faux-instructor’s voice. Cara goofily jutted her lip in a pout – comical, if only it wasn’t pitch black and they could actually see each other.

Din squirmed a little. The impatient student. “You’re right,” he purred. “Not sweet at all.”

“Well,” she drew it out, threading her hands through his thick hair. “Guess, I could be amenable to showing you a few more…”

Holding his face, she pressed chaste kisses to his eyelids, down the bridge of his sharp nose, hopped right over his lips to his jaw; then, on his cheek – with a dimple, she imagined; next on the corner of his mouth, then finally, _finally_ , the universe seemingly holding its breath in patient anticipation, Cara kissed him right in the center of his cupid’s bow lips. Slightly chapped, they’re amazingly softer than even Cara’s dreams.

She started slowly; keeping it docile, gentle, in case he got too skittish. They’ve done plenty more than kissing together, but for some reason the innocence of the act – their first real kiss – felt novel, even to an experienced lover like Cara.

Din’s quiet hesitation grew bolder and his lips parted under her own and he _moaned_ , hands _gripping_ on her hips. Their lips explored each other a little more, open-mouthed, panting, until Cara daringly grazed her tongue along the seam of his mouth and Din buckled, granting her entrance.

His mouth is hot, inviting, tongue sweeping forward to meet her, sliding boldly into her mouth, then retreating back to let her take over. She licked every corner she can, reveling in the taste of him.

“So that’s what it’s like,” he said, parting so they’re able to break for air. His forehead bumped her brow.

“Not so bad, right?” she teased. “There’s not a lot to it.”

He jostled her lightly, nosing into her neck and inhaling deeply. “Smell so sweet,” he cooed, and his moustache tickled her sensitive skin. “Didn’t you say once you had a talented tongue?”

Cara glowed a little with pride. “I do indeed.”

Din’s busy discovering a spot on her neck with his mouth that made her eyes roll back into her head and shamelessly rub her breasts into his torso. And _really_ , she’s wearing too many clothes.

“You’re a quick study,” she squeaked.

“You’ve been a good teacher, sweet girl.” He bit down just teasingly enough to shoot pain and pleasure into a heady mix that went right to her clit.

“Not s-sweet, ‘member,” she mustered, though the nickname was growing on her. And she especially liked the way he said it. She grinned. “I bet that Vision-Cara from the Temple totally had a flatter ass than me.”

There’s a pleasant pressure on her ass from his hand, gripping the fleshiest bit, and she gasped, aroused at the _strength_ of it.

“I know a spot where you are sweet,” Din whispered hotly against her skin, nosing a path down to her cleavage, and rubbing himself against her.

Cara blushed at the implication. “Din!” She swatted playfully at his thigh, scandalized. “You can’t just _say_ those things!”

“It’s just us two.”

“Yeah, but…”

Din slotted himself right between her open thighs and just _smelled_ her. He made a delightfully erotic noise from the back of his throat, a cross between a groan and hum. “I could smell you all over.”

“OK,” Cara blushed further, embarrassed but also extremely turned on. And here this whole time she thought _she_ was the one with the dirty mind. “You’re being weird.”

“M’not. How is this weird?”

“You kinda are.”

“Teach me how to kiss you down here,” and he kissed her right on her navel, just under her bellybutton. Then further…and further… kissing the mound of her pubic bone through her shorts.

A lot more than solely Cara’s face bloomed with heat. Her whole body was suddenly alight, and a lovely thrill diffused down her center and into her groin. She was wholly aware that a sleeping Foundling was just a few hands away.

“Hold on,” she said, stopping him with a soothing hand to the back of his neck. He stilled instantly. “Soon, babe, soon.”

He climbed back up to her front, until they were nose-to-nose.

“You’re right,” he sighed woefully, “I’m getting carried away.”

They nuzzled closer, lips passing lazily over each other, as if trying to memorize the feel of each other, and not wanting to part just yet.

“I want to be here when the kid wakes up,” said Din, breath skating over her face. “Would you stay with us?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she answered. “You know I like hanging out with my boys.”

* * *

There’s pleasant soft light on when Cara awakened. She heard the adorable sound of soft coos and squeaks, followed by a rumbling under her ear of Din’s morning voice.

Despite being in a larger bed, she and the kid slept snuggled directly on Din’s chest. Her left arm was asleep, tucked underneath her, and she was definitely drooling a little. But it’s Din – and his warm chest, looking handsomely soft, golden in the soft sim lights of the bunk, remarkably bereft of hair on his lithe chest, with those muscular broad shoulders. Cara’s pillowed on a plump part of his tummy.

Something poked into her cheek, then her mouth, and blinking her sleepy eyes open, she smiled upon noticing it was the Child’s foot – now wide awake, sitting up on Din’s chest, making morning conversation with his dad.

Cara put her lips around the tiny green heel and blew a raspberry onto it. The kid laughed, his small body shaking. She did it again, louder, until he squealed, nearly toppling off onto the sheets if it weren’t for Din’s wide hands holding him in place.

“Morning,” Din greeted her, voice heavy with sleep. Helmet firmly in proper placement, he looked a tad silly propped up on the big fluffy pillows. Non-threatening but, like, in a sexy way.

Cara greeted him with a raspberry of her own on Din’s tummy.

“Hey—” he tensed, holding in a laugh, arching away from her. “Watch yourself, sweet girl.” And he rubbed his hands all over her unruly bedhead.

Cara took this moment to see what the kid had been holding in his hand all night. She unfolded his right fist, which he let her do, revealing a sheer crystalline stone, emitting a faint green light. It was no bigger than the width of the Child’s palm. She took the piece to examine it more closely.

“Never seen anything like it,” noted Din, leaning to give it a closer examination. “He got this from the Temple?”

The kid only gave a musical squawk.

“You know what they say, finders-keepers,” and she tickled the kid’s green toes, returning the bizarre crystal back to him.

* * *

Cara was distracted all day. She kept bumping into walls and low shelfs, relishing in the feel of Din’s lips on her body. The way he had kissed her, like it was a promise.

Din piloted them successfully off world, then took to cornering Cara in every possible way. Crowding her against the hull walls, or the narrow ladder. Muttering things like, “C’mere, sweet girl,” then tracing his finger over the dip of her lips.

The night couldn’t come soon enough.

They left Lothal’s upper atmosphere after a hearty breakfast. All parties were starving after forsaking any food the day before, being stuck in that cone-mountain for an extended time. After a few hours at hyperspeed, they had to refuel at a station familiar to the Mandalorian during his bounty-hunting days, and then they were heading back to the Outer Rim. Intending to check in on Greef Karga on Nevarro.

They arranged to have the main bunk space to themselves that night. Putting the kid to bed up the ladder in Cara’s old room behind the cockpit. He had protested, accordingly. Not wanting to leave their side. Generous bath time with dad and plenty of snuggling with Cara calmed him down, and tucked into one of the new blankets Din purchased on Lothal, he fell asleep breezily.

Din practically tore Cara’s clothes off her in an attempt to get to bare skin. Not bothering with total darkness, nor a blindfold, Din trusted Cara enough to keep her eyes shut the entire time.

“Wait, wait,” Cara pulled away slightly exasperated from Din’s enticingly soft lips. “You take your helmet off for this, but you won’t be my drinking buddy?”

“You have to admit this is better than drinking,” Din deadpanned, setting more of his armor aside.

Cara opened her mouth to dispute that point, but Din’s mouth was already seeking her, licking at her upper lip, stealing all her breath in a feverish kiss. It was ravenous in a way that had Cara reconsidering, like, ok yeah, maybe this is better than drinking.

By the time they’re writhing on the bed, naked, Din’s mouth firmly attached to one of her pert nipples, carding her fingers through his thick hair, she’s lost all coherent thought anyway. As if Din’s lips sucked her brains out through her tit. She might as well be addicted to his mouth, his touch. Lost in a daze of wet, heat around her sensitive skin; first the one, then the other.

“Oh, I _knew_ you were a tits man,” Cara seethed, drinking in the absolute heat of Din’s kisses at her breasts, squeezing them in his wide hands as she squirmed under him.

He answered with a graze of teeth around a nipple. She arched into it, nearly clean off the bed, squeezing her eyes shut; her neck strained away to prevent herself from catching an accidental eyeful of him under the dim lights of the room. Din’s chuckle was heady. So, Cara took more bunches of his silky hair in her hands and _tugged_ in fevered encouragement.

He left a hot a hot trail of his wet kisses, a bristle from his moustache, a tickle of his swirling tongue, from her sternum down to her ribcage, to the taut muscles on her belly, kissing all the hard and soft parts of Cara’s body.

“M’taste you,” he mumbled. “Can I taste you? Sweet girl, would you let me kiss you down here?”

Her pussy throbbed, and she barely managed a half-way decent “fuck yeah” – clearly forgetting that she was still warming up to his nickname – before it all got stuck in her throat, and her hips twitched as if of their own mind. She had to grip the edge of the bed, for fear that she would fly right off it.

Eyes clenched shut, she felt him maneuvering lower. His large hands were on the underside of her thighs, spreading her wider, and good Maker, Cara’s never been shy about her body, least of all in front of a lover like Din who was voracious, if not greedy, in the way that he was touching her. An obvious twinge of embarrassment that rippled through her, mixed with wanton lust, at the thought that his mouth was going to touch her there. While she could only lay there and just _take_ it.

That she couldn’t see any of it made her imagination rush forward with all kinds of wickedly hot scenarios that in no way could possibly compare to the truth, to the real. For no matter how far Cara’s dirty mind could go, it would never prepare her for when – one day, she thought, if not a little possessively – seeing him, seeing Din’s mouth, tonguing her clit would blow every single fantasy out of the water.

So, Cara, blind to her lover’s face, could only adamantly appreciate the way in which her whole body shivered with the anticipation, the augmented rush of her senses in just _feeling_ him. Cara was more than a little lightheaded.

Din was lightly scratching the dusting of hairs on his jaw against her inner thigh. Eye level with her dripping pussy.

“Cara, oh, you should see yourself.” He blew a deliberate puff of air onto her, and she felt her lips flutter with the stimulation.

She could only dither a “nnghh.”

He’s smelling her. “This for me?” Din’s husky admiration hit the wetness gushing out of her, making Cara squeal. (Though she wondered in some distant part of her mind that it came out possibly far more undignified than she’d like to admit.)

Then it’s all hot air, a tickle of hair, and the broad expanse of his tongue laved right into her folds and Cara pulled the pillow over her face to simultaneously muffle her obscene moan, cover her eyes, and dampen her heated face. The man didn’t even try to tease her anymore. His tongue sought her innermost parts, lapping at her like a starving man.

“Fuck, Cara,” he moaned, “you taste, mhmm… oh you are sweet.” He dipped to trace another eager lick with the flat of his tongue.

Then he latched on, mouth slanted wide, and hummed. She bucked her hips so wildly against his face, he had to pin her down, hands splayed wide. Soaked, she whined and squirmed, melting, like she’s about to trickle herself into a puddle.

Din only drove a harder downward pressure on her hips. He broke away only for air, before diving back to suckle her clit between his lips. He tugged, swirled his tongue around it. There’s a slight chaff coming from the scruff on his upper lip and chin, and Cara’s tucking her hips as much as she can to grind against it, chasing the furnace of his mouth.

It all makes her want to cum faster. When his goes tongue back to placing sopping licks at her entrance, tasting every last bit of her, Cara feels like she’s being plundered. The wet sounds of it absolutely filthy. His nose bumping against her swollen neglected clit.

“S’good?” He asked, and he sounded like a wrecked man, gulping down air because he’s breathless on this feast. “You like that?”

“Yeah, Din, s’good.” Her brain is so raddled, she has nothing original to say.

The man chuckled and slurped on her clit. The obscene sound sent her sobbing, muffling yelps into the pillow over her face.

“Din, please!” Cara can’t remember the last time she begged.

“Hm?” He’s hummed it right against her, lips wide, tongue curling inside her. It reverberated through all her nerve endings.

He’s coy, the little turd. As if he didn’t know!

So, she trapped him. Wrapped her strong thighs right around his ears to keep his face right she wants him, bucking up as much as she can into his eager mouth. He lets her have the control for a bit, lets her fuck his face, and Cara’s leaking at the absolute attention finally, _finally_ , exactly where she needs him. The man is relentless – so adamantly strict in his Creed and giving himself over to the opportunity to merely indulge for once. To let himself _taste_.

But then he’s fighting back, strong-arming her open again, holding her thighs, now trembling with resistance under his hands. She wants to scream at him, she was so close!

His chin and lips are drenched, she can feel the slickness as he wet her with more flourishes of that sinful tongue. She imagined his bobbing head between her thighs, jaw aching, as he widened his mouth, taking her all in. Juices dripping down his chin. She shuddered violently.

“Want you to –” She’s stuffed the poor pillow into her face, that she’s having trouble getting Din to hear her. “Want – wanna come.”

He released her, mouth separating with a wet click.

Cara moved the pillow off her face just enough to gasp, drink in air like she’s drowning.

A bony elbow dug into her hipbone, made her yelp in place as he pressed his entire forearm across her belly, drawing up her knee up to drape over his shoulder. A very obvious sound of him sucking on his own fingers reached her ears before he’s stroking them into the cleft of her pussy. Din’s become a quick study on this because he’s already curling them upwards, as if beckoning her hither. It’s enough to light a fire within her.

“Look at you,” he crooned, low and heavy with want. And it’s almost cruel, because she can’t, she won’t break Din’s trust. She squeezed her eyes tighter, stifled another sound in the pillow over her face.

Din drew his fingers in and out with exaggerated languor, grunting almost like he’s in pain. “You’re so _wet_ like this, all soaked just for me. My sweet girl, my sweet, sweet girl.” He hissed as he makes another series of deep thrusts sinking to his knuckles with a lewd squelching sound.

“Didn’t t-think you were gonna be so—ngh… _mouthy_.” Cara valiantly put as much venom into it as she can. She’s fighting a losing battle.

It made Din chuckle, deep in his throat, nibbling at a spot on her thigh. “You think I’m mouthy? I’ll show you _mouthy_ ,” he said, like it’s a challenge.

Cara sobbed into the pillow as his velvet tongue teased swirls, wide and wet, sloppily dipping around his fingers.

As he makes another pull on her clit with his lips, it’s not enough and also too, too much. She thinks she’s about to break – he’s readying her for it. The firm strokes of his fingers are nearly enough on their own. His mouth doesn’t stop moving, whispering words of encouragement, moaning, and kissing along the crease of her thigh, lapping his tongue up and down her sex. And it’s all sloppy and artless, and utterly ridiculous.

“ _Please_ ,” she whined, louder, gaining pitch.

He flicked her clit with the flat edge of his tongue, once, twice, three times, then sucks mercilessly and she’s thrown off into that blissful suspension. Finally, her orgasm ripping through, upending everything in its place.

Cara shuddered and cried out as toe-curling spasms spread like currents through her. He hitched the ridge of his nose against her clit in a playful manner and she gnashed her teeth, belly fluttering until she is catapulted right over a second peak, practically screaming with it. She has to lift his face off her, tugging on his long hair because the sensation is too much to take all at once. His fingers stay, working her through each quake and aftershock. Wave after wave of sheer bliss hitting her until she’s floating on some kind of cloud and Cara’s mind went blank.

Face red, neck and chest dotted with sweat, Cara’s sure she looked about as thoroughly fucked as she felt. Din’s kissing a sweet trail along her thighs, on her hips, at the junction of her legs, lathing up her sweat. It’s lost some of his previous heat, but there’s still a flash of teeth to his gentleness.

Cara removed the pillow around her face, cocked her head, sharply, as if getting his attention. It’s a miracle that her eyes are still closed. “Hey buddy, I can, uhh, return the favor.” But her mouth is jelly. Tongue lolling in non-directions.

“Mm, maybe later,” Din said from somewhere down around her bellybutton. “I’m good for now.”

An ember of heat licked in her belly. “You mean you…” she trailed off, screwing her face up in a comical expression of bafflement. “You…but I – I didn’t touch you!”

“Yeah, I stained my pants,” he grumbled.

Cara’s hit with a visual of him humping his dick against the mattress. Not a single hand on him. Her mouth went dry. Below her, the rustle of fabric and Din’s sighs of frustration can only be him removing said cum-soaked breeches.

“Get up here tinhead.” She fumbled blindly, found a shoulder, and pulled. He’s a warm welcome – now naked – weight along her front, and he hovered over her, dipping just enough to graze her lips with his.

She can taste herself on him, sticky and sweet on his tongue and she moans into the kiss, cradling his face. His scruff is long enough to tickle under her nose, the hairs wet.

“Hm, never pictured you with so much hair,” she said, scraping her teeth on his nose in a playful bite.

She felt the bone structure of his cheeks, the coarse pelt on his jaw, the satin waves that hang around his ears. There’s a remarkable mix of textures under the soft pads of her roaming fingers. The full brows and the crinkling of wrinkles around his eyes; she discovered a scar on the bridge of his nose, surprisingly full and soft cheeks, a dint near his mouth that could only be a dimple from him smiling down at her.

It’s all so is oddly sensual and extraordinarily intimate.

She’s breathless in the acceptance of such trust on Din’s part. Touched by his leniency in spite of a potential breach in the Way. Simply for her. She forgot all about her doubts.

Her fingers found his lips, plump and soft, and she imagined their pink tint, swollen with use, still glistening with her cum. It’s such a sharp contrast to the man she knows— this supple, hairy, pink-lipped man underneath the shell of beskar that surrounded him, like an exoskeleton. The unpainted armor so familiar, so all-encompassing to Cara’s own understanding of Din that in the rare moments he went without it, was at times alien and foreign, like a seeing a creature without its shell.

She rushed to kiss him again, claimed his mouth with her own, clumsily bumping noses because she’s too busy smiling to think straight. Din rolled them sideways, their lips never parting, and he’s cheekily fondling her breasts.

“Yeah, you’re such a tits guy,” she muttered into his chin. Her head is pillowed on his arm, and their lips keep touching, brushing, until their kisses turn lazy, almost sleepy.

He pressed one last kiss, before reluctantly pulling away. She held in her whine at the loss of his warmth, felt the bed dip as he moved away, reaching for something.

“Okay,” he said after a few beats of quiet. Cara recognized the honey-coated inflection to his voice was replaced by the all-too-familiar metallic of his modulator. “You can open your eyes now.”

She readied herself, cracked open first one eye, then the other, squinting at him.

There’s the Din she knows on sight. He’s hunched over, like maybe he’s shy, or modest, or – and, here, Cara has to scoff – afraid she might be disappointed.

She’s unable to place the fluttery lightness that started in her chest.

Sitting back on his haunches, naked as the day he was born, Din sat before her, cock heavy between those strong thighs, a line of dark hair leading from his soft belly to the shadow of his crotch. All golden skin with patchworked scars on broad shoulders and narrow hips. One shiny bucket on his head.

And it didn’t come with a loud bang, as it had always been told to her in the children’s tales, or from the great epics. There was no (obviously) witnessing the entire galaxy in your lover’s face. It didn’t come with tears or explosive, heart-wrenching confessions, drawn out elegies or poetic turns of phrases. None of that was Cara’s style anyway.

No. It was more like the soft click of the safety setting on a rifle; the feeling of a warm blaster at her hip; the presence of someone watching her six. She couldn’t shake the sense of the _rightness_ of it.

It brought an evolving smile to her lips, crinkling her eyes.

“What?” Din prodded her, moving closer to lay beside to her, upright on the pillows.

Cara stretches out alongside him, shook her head, and burrowed her nose into his neck, inhaling his scent.

Strong hands rubbed a path down her back, across her shoulders. “Did I just render the great Carasynthia Dune speechless?” Even the modulator can’t hide the cheesiness of it.

Yeah, she can’t wipe the dopey grin off her face either.

**Author's Note:**

> Next up: final Chapters to my other works are almost done.
> 
> Leave a comment or a kudos. I treasure them all!  
> xoxo


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